400000 views! Yay! I think I have to address one of the accusations from the reviews regarding my 'discontinuity' when it comes to wands: so, the reviewer pointed out that in one chapter, I had Daphne saying that wands aren't that important, ancient wizards didn't use them, and that the wizard's intention is the most crucial factor when it comes to magic. Then, a few chapters later, I wrote this about wands: 'more like living creatures, forming connections with their owners. Without them, a witch or wizard was practically incapable of doing magic.'
Now, I understand why some of you might think it is a discontinuity, but look at this from another perspective: for example, thousands of years ago, humans were perfectly capable of surviving in the wild, living in caves, hunting for food, and wearing animals' fur as clothes. They couldn't even begin to think about the technology we have today that makes our lives easier. Would we be able to live like our ancestors? With some training and preparation, probably yes, though I doubt many of us would succeed. I know I wouldn't. Does this mean 'discontinuity' in the history of the human race? No, it means progress, and I think it's similar when it comes to wands and wandless magic. In the past, wizards were perfectly capable of doing magic without wands, but time and progress brought new 'technology' that made it easier. Would today's wizards be able to do wandless magic? With some practice, they would, but without training, they could severely harm or even kill themselves, just as if we suddenly tried to survive in the wild. I hope I made myself clear in this matter. I'm sorry for my rumble, but I felt the need to answer the accusations in the reviews, so you guys can know that I actually read them. Now, onto the next chapter!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 24
It was significantly colder inside the Maze than when Harry was waiting for permission to enter. The vapor escaping from his mouth mixed instantly with the mist. He shivered slightly, feeling the blouse sticking to his back; his skin was covered with cold sweat, and every time he brushed against the hedges, Harry felt as if his body's temperature dropped another degree. If things continued that way, he was certain he would freeze to death before he even caught a glimpse of the Triwizard Cup.
Usually, he had no problems navigating through the Quidditch Pitch, even after flying far above the layer of clouds in a mad pursuit of the Golden Snitch. But being on the ground, running a few times into dead-ends, and having to make more turns than he could count made him lose all sense of direction. It certainly didn't help that neither the stands nor the sun were visible, and the crowd's cheering became inaudible as soon as he entered the maze. Magic, he summed up, not for the first time wondering if he would have been better had he kept the Map with himself. After all, they weren't searched before the Task, and the judges simply assumed that all they had were their wands. And even if the Map wouldn't guide him to the Cup, it would certainly help him figure out where the center of the Pitch was. But it was too late for wishful thinking – Daphne had the Map, and he had to manage without it.
Harry slapped himself, cursing his own ignorance. "Point me," he murmured, keeping his wand flat at his hand. Any clue was better than none. He waited patiently for his wand to stabilize. Focus, Potter, he ordered himself, attempting to calm his nerves. After a few seconds, the tip of his wand was pointed at him, indicating that he was facing south. Where he came from. Harry cursed silently again and turned around, attempting to at least resume walking in the correct direction.
The silence was deafening. All he heard was his breath, the rapid beating of his heart, and the occasional crack of branches breaking beneath his feet; he could swear that other Champions, and whatever else lurked in the Maze, could hear him as well. He kept his wand in a tight grip, mentally and physically prepared to start casting spells if need be.
Every time Harry approached a fork in the road, he would first lean forward a bit and look left and right, making sure that there was no hidden threat waiting for him around the corner. He followed the same tactic at that moment as well. So far, the Maze seemed to be abandoned. Even though the Quidditch Pitch wasn't nearly as huge as one could think, he had yet to encounter other Champions.
Just as he was walking through the Maze, pressed tightly against the soft, though spiky, wall, he heard a muffled sound of a breaking twig. Instantly, Harry froze on the spot, listening carefully. The noise's volume indicated that the sound didn't come from under his feet, which could only mean that someone or something was nearby. He gulped nervously and tightened his grip on his wand, looking behind his back from time to time. The noise broke the silence so suddenly that it was impossible to determine where it came from.
Harry was luckier in figuring out the direction the next time the sound filled the air as he was actively listening for it. It came from somewhere in front of him. He took in a deep breath to calm down his shaking hands and started walking forward, keeping his wand raised.
He noticed the attack at the last second possible. Countless hours spent in the air, avoiding the Bludgers, did wonders to sharpen his reflexes. He saw a small ball of fire passing through the exact same spot where his head used to be not a second earlier. Knowing that it wasn't just some random thing that appeared out of nowhere, he turned around in the direction where the attack came from.
Towards him was walking a creature that Harry vaguely remembered seeing. Its movements were slow and calculated – precise like a spider crawling on its net towards the prey. The top of the creature's body was covered with a few plates that overlapped each other, forming a natural, and, most probably, impenetrable armor. There were also two long limbs hanging on the beast's both ends, resembling a scorpion's tail. And no matter how hard he tried, Harry couldn't see anything resembling a head or even eyes – the obvious weak spots of any creature.
He leaped to his left to avoid being hit by yet another fireball that the creature sent at him without any warning. He heard the projectile hitting the hedge, though he didn't dare turn around to check if the plants caught fire. He was sure that if he did, he would be the one to catch fire.
"Protego," he said, dropping his hand in a quick, vertical movement. The air in front of him rippled, separating him from yet another attack. "Reducto!" he yelled, pointing his wand at the creature in front of him. His eyes widened when he saw his spell bouncing off the beast's armored back without doing it any harm. After all, that hex was strong enough to take down walls thicker than his body, and yet it didn't leave a single scratch on the creature in front of him.
Blast-Ended Skrewts, Harry remembered, finally recalling one of his lessons with Hagrid. At that moment, he understood why the Gamekeeper was so fond of his pets. Although, to be honest, Harry was certain that Hagrid would tell him that they were going to be placed in the Maze with the Champions. He raised another shield as the creature attacked him again.
"Glacius!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the ground beneath Skrewt's legs. The Freezing Charm was quickly followed by yet another Shield Charm as the creature didn't want to wait for its opponent to make the next move. "Impedimenta!" Harry said, pointing his wand at the Skrewt itself. Just as he hoped, the combination of those two spells made the creature fall on its belly. And even though the Skrewt wasn't incapable of firing back, it was more focused at that moment on getting up on its legs. Deciding not to waste that opportunity, Harry sprinted right next to the ten feet long beast, casting yet another Impediment Hex to make sure that it wouldn't be getting up any time soon. He had no idea how fast those creatures could be, and he certainly didn't want to find out. He ran through the narrow paths of the Maze, hoping to lose the Skrewt entirely. One wasn't a problem, but a few could prove to be deadly.
And so, he ran, not checking the crossroads as he used to previously. Each time, he took a random turn left or right or continued forwards, hoping to lose his potential pursuer far behind him. Occasionally, Harry would cast the Shield Charm, whether in front of him or behind him, not wanting to take any chances at being attacked by accident.
After a few minutes of running, Harry stopped. He leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. The air in the Maze was thin, and breathing proved to be more difficult than usual. He did his best to breathe through his nose, attempting to minimalize the sounds coming from him as much as possible, and listened to his surroundings. He sighed in relief when he didn't hear anything coming from any direction.
After a few more seconds of resting, Harry straightened up and continued forward, though he made sure to be more aware of his surroundings than during his mad sprint. He almost fell a few times in the process – his foot getting stuck in one of the thicker roots that grew above the ground. Once again, Harry wondered how exactly the Hogwarts staff wanted to bring the Pitch back to its former glory.
The Maze was silent again, safe for his breathing and the sound of his footsteps. The vapor coming from his mouth was even thicker than before, and with the adrenaline swiftly escaping his body, he was shaking uncontrollably. Even though it was the end of June, he felt as if he was back in the Lake.
Casting the Warming Charm on himself, Harry continued forward as there were no visible turns. The charm brought him an instant relief, sending pleasant shivers down his spine, like drinking hot chocolate on a cold winter evening.
Harry had no idea how long he was walking down the same path, but it finally gave way to a clearing. It wasn't large, and the Triwizard Cup was nowhere to be seen, but it eased his feelings of being swallowed by the Maze. He looked around, trying to decide which way he should go, as there were five possible routes for him to take, excluding the one he just came from.
"Point me," Harry murmured again, hoping that at least knowing where the north was would help him make the decision faster.
"Harry Potter," a soft, almost loving voice spoke from behind his back, causing the youngest Champion to turn around instantly. It wasn't much more than a whisper, but it was loud enough for him to hear it and chill the blood in his veins. He knew that voice – he remembered it from his dreams.
In front of him stood a figure dressed in dark robes. The clothes hid the person's entire body, and his face was covered with a hood; only a pair of sickly red eyes could be seen shining in the shadow. The person was walking slowly and smoothly, and he seemed not to make even a single sound as he stepped on the Maze's floor. Even through the distance separating them, Harry could still see that the stranger was much taller than him.
"How long have I waited for this moment," the person – Voldemort – spoke again, not stopping his approach towards Harry. Shaking off the initial shock, Harry raised his wand, ready to use it in an instant. Voldemort chirped quietly, and the young boy could see him shaking his head in disapprobation. "Where are your manners, Harry? It's impolite to point your wand at someone without reason."
"You murdered my parents," Harry replied instantly, still keeping his wand pointed at the figure in front of him. "And tried to kill me a few times already. I'd say it's one hell of a reason."
"Delivered just as promised," another voice – a feminine one – once again coming from behind his back, spoke suddenly. And once again, it was a voice Harry could easily recognize anywhere. He turned his head, not dropping his wand, to stare in disbelief at Daphne's approaching form.
If Voldemort's sudden appearance chilled Harry's blood, what he saw next froze it entirely. Daphne was walking towards him, keeping her wand pointed at Ron's back; she kept his Map in her left hand. His former best friend had several wounds on his face and his whole body, and he held his hands behind his head. From time to time, Daphne poked him with her wand to keep him moving. Even though it was written all over his face that he didn't want to, Ron obeyed each time.
"What?" Harry only managed to cough up, failing to decide who he should keep an eye on – Voldemort or the two other students.
"Well done, my dear child," Voldemort spoke in the same soft whisper that sounded like a hissing of a snake, never for once stopping in his slow yet calculated approach.
"What?" Harry repeated, dumbfounded. He didn't see Ron on the stands, not that he actively looked for him, but he could easily remember Daphne sitting on one of the tallest benches, surrounded by her sister and her Housemates. How did she get here so quickly?
"I've told you," Ron said finally; his eyes were casting daggers, though Harry wasn't sure if he was the intended target. "Bloody Snakes – all of them! But you couldn't believe me, could you?!"
"Silence, Weasel," Daphne ordered, shutting his mouth with a spell Harry couldn't quite hear. He could clearly see Ron struggling against the Slytherin's magic, though his efforts were in vain; only then Harry noticed that the Gryffindor's hands were tightly bound. "Why do you think I believed you so easily about your participation in the Tournament? I put your name in the Goblet. Are you really naïve enough to believe that I simply wanted to get to know you?" Daphne asked him after making sure that her prisoner was incapable of escaping. "That I wanted to waste my time with someone as lazy and mediocre as you?" she snorted. "You are even more stupid than I anticipated," she added, pulling up the left sleeve of her robe.
Harry's eyes widened, and his face paled as he stared at Daphne's forearm. He could still vaguely remember her nearly white skin when they danced at the Ball, but it seemed as if an entire lifetime passed since that moment. Then and there, in the middle of Maze, Daphne's pearly skin was covered with a tattoo of a snake coming out of a skull – the same mark Harry had seen in the sky after the Quidditch World Cup. The black ink seemed even darker when contrasted with the girl's pale forearm.
"I knew you were a promising one when I first met you," Voldemort continued, reminding Harry about his presence. The young wizard turned his head immediately, still keeping his wand pointed at the cloaked figure. Harry's heart leaped into his throat when he noticed that Voldemort was a few meters away from him; his red eyes were even more visible the closer he was. "Although I believe we have no need of – what did you call him? Weasel?" he continued; Harry could clearly hear the amusement in his voice. "Kill him."
Harry whipped around in a split second, only to see the all too familiar flash of green light escaping from Daphne's wand. And even though it traveled faster than he could blink, Harry felt as if time slowed down around them. He could do nothing, other than stare helplessly at Ron's face, still contorted with anger, as the spell hit his back. The last thing he saw in the other boy's eyes before they faded was an accusation. The message was clear – it was his fault.
Harry's voice died down in his throat as he let out a silent scream, finally shaking off all the confusion and shock. He forced his arm to work, changing his wand's target from Voldemort to Daphne. Harry wasn't even sure what spell he fired. It didn't really matter, though, as Daphne effortlessly raised her shield to protect herself from his attack. She was quick to counter as well, throwing a curse at him.
Harry leaped to the side, avoiding being hit with her spell by millimeters. The ground where he stood exploded, sending large patches of grass and dirt in every direction; for a few seconds, the Maze's clearing became shrouded with dust. Driven by instinct, Harry cast 'Protego' in front of him, only to see yet another curse bouncing off his shield without causing any harm.
He coughed loudly, attempting to get rid of the dirt that entered his mouth. He sprung to his feet, leaving his temporary shelter as yet another curse, most probably more deadly than the previous one, rushed in his direction. With the air clearing a little, he could see that Voldemort drew his wand as well, ready to finish what he started almost fourteen years earlier. And with Daphne getting closer and closer to him with each passing second, Harry saw only one way out – run.
He cast 'Glacius' at Daphne's feet, hoping to stop her as he did with the Skrewt, though he didn't waste precious time to see if his accuracy was on point. Instead, he ran, focusing on reaching the closest path to him. He didn't care if it was the same one from which he came. All that mattered was to get the hell out of the clearing to at least gain some sort of advantage over his opponents.
The sound of twigs and branches breaking under someone's feet told Harry he was being pursued. He turned around for a split second, casting yet another 'Glacius' at his opponent, though, once again, he wasn't sure if his spell hit the target. Screw the Cup. I have to get out of here.
The air around him started getting colder once again, despite his Warming Charm; the vapor from his mouth was becoming thicker and thicker. His eyes widened in disbelief when he saw the hedges around him slowly freezing – the green needles were becoming white, and the ground beneath his feet hardened and became more slippery.
Harry didn't have to wait long to find out why. Suddenly, a few meters in front of him, another cloaked figure appeared, though this one wasn't walking on the ground like Voldemort. It flew through the air, much faster than the two people he saw earlier in the clearing. The Dementor's dark robe flapped behind it as it soured through the air, straight at him.
"Expecto Patronum!" Harry yelled with all his might, pointing his wand at the creature in front of him. In an instant, the silver stag of his father sprung free from his wand, charging at the Dementor. The conjured animal had no problems with chasing the Azkaban's warden away; the cloaked creature screamed in what could only be described as agony, flying away from Harry's Patronus.
"You cannot hide, Harry!" Daphne's voice, which was much closer than he anticipated, came from somewhere behind him, forcing him to turn around instantly. The mist made it impossible to see her, but he was sure that she was somewhere close. Where was Voldemort remained a mystery. "I'll find you sooner or later. Though I'm sure it will be sooner rather than later," she added.
It took Harry a few seconds to fully comprehend Daphne's words. A frown appeared on his face, and suddenly, almost all tension from the recent confrontation left his body. Whoever that girl was, it wasn't Daphne, despite what his eyes were telling him. Hell would freeze over before she would even consider calling him by his name.
And yet even with that knowledge, it was impossible for Harry to figure out who that girl truly was. When she finally walked out of the mist, standing a few meters in front of him, all his senses tried to convince him that it was Daphne. Everything about her was as he remembered from the tent, except for the Dark Mark on her forearm, which still remained uncovered, and her using his name. Even her usual smirk was firmly placed on her lips. For a split second, he thought he could smell her strawberry shampoo, but he wasn't sure if it was real or if his imagination was playing tricks on him.
The silver stag returned to him, standing loyally on his side, ready to defend its wizard. With a corner of his eye, Harry could see the conjured animal stomping its leg on the ground, preparing for a charge at their common enemy. Behind Daphne's back, a pair of red dots shone through the mist, indicating that Voldemort was there as well.
If Harry had any doubts about the girl in front of him being Daphne, they evaporated instantly when he saw the girl's lips curling up in a cruel perversion of a smile. Daphne doesn't smile, he remembered. Whoever or whatever the being in front of him was, it wasn't the girl he spent so much time with over the past few months.
"Protego!" he screamed, conjuring a shield in front of him just as he saw the girl's wand moving. Once again, the air rippled, and the attack bounced off, landing in the hedge to his right, destroying a large chunk of the Maze's wall. His Patronus charged at the attacker, even though it couldn't do any harm to a human. "Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled, hoping to disarm the girl.
Daphne sidestepped smoothly as if she was mocking him, but it was enough for Harry to continue with his onslaught. Using the girl's own tactic from earlier, he sent a 'Reducto' at her feet, creating a small barrier between them for a few precious seconds. He leaped to another side of the narrow path, correctly predicting that the dust wouldn't be enough to stop Daphne from attacking. A red curse flew harmlessly through the air where he stood a few seconds earlier.
"Glacius," Harry muttered, hoping to catch his opponent off-guard. He was rewarded with a dull sound of a body hitting the ground. "Diffindo," he said, pointing his wand in the direction where he thought the noise came from.
His heart shattered to a thousand pieces when he heard the girl screaming in agony. Without a doubt, his spell hit the target. The dust was already clearing away, allowing Harry to see the aftermath of his fight with Daphne. His lower lip trembled when he saw her.
She was laying on the frozen ground, pressing her handless right arm tightly to her body; beneath her, a pool of red started gathering, slowly getting bigger and bigger the more blood Daphne lost. Harry's heart was pounding achingly in his chest, and he had to keep reminding himself that it wasn't Daphne to stop himself from running up to her and helping her. Less than two meters away laid her hand; her fingers were locked in a tight grip around her wand.
"Are you going to kill me?" Daphne seethed through greeted teeth, trying to block out the sobs that were escaping from her mouth from time to time. She snorted. "Of course not. You're nothing but a coward! I bet you'd rather hide in the Chamber now, like when I first found you!"
It's not her, Harry reminded himself for what felt like the hundredth time. "Maybe. But you're nothing as well. And you're not Daphne. Reducto," he said simply, closing his eyes as he sent the spell.
He felt something wet hitting his face, but he didn't dare check what it was. The content of his stomach almost left his body when he saw the result of his spell. The ground in front of him was red, and he could see small parts of what used to be Daphne scattered around him. He held back the retch with all his might.
Suddenly, Harry's eyes widened in realization as he stared at Voldemort's approaching figure. It wasn't the first time his eyes tried to convince him that what he saw was a real being. The girl he just murdered wasn't Daphne, of that he was certain, and he could clearly remember that beings that resembled Dementors weren't necessarily them. "And you're not Voldemort!" he said loudly, raising his wand. He just hoped his assumption would prove to be correct. "Riddikulus!" he screamed.
He saw the figure flying away, practically becoming one with the mist. Instantly, all proof of the girl's death disappeared as well – the ground returned to its normal dark green color with a few brown spots, lightly coated with a bluish hue of ice. The blood and Daphne's remains disappeared without a trace, leaving Harry alone on the narrow path.
He slumped to the ground, breathing heavily. The silver stag returned to him, trying to offer as much comfort as a conjured mist possibly could. Not for the first time, Harry wished to be able to pet his Patronus; the relief its presence brought was almost instant. He smiled weakly, holding back a sob that tried to escape his mouth.
"Let's go," Harry said, standing up shakily, though he wasn't sure if he directed those words to the silver stag or himself.
But before he could take a single step, his eyes fell on a little something that got stuck in one of the branches of the hedge on his right. His lower lip trembled again as he picked up a stripe with the Slytherin emblem that previously resided on Daphne's chest. His hand shook, and violent shivers ran down his spine as he stared at the silver snake resting on the green shield. Of course, what he just faced was only a Boggart, but what if it became a reality somewhere in the future? What if he was forced to fight against Daphne, knowing that their confrontation would only end in someone's death?
Harry tried to get rid of those thoughts, just like the Slytherin emblem disappeared from the palm of his hand.
Accompanied by his Patronus, Harry continued forward, returning to the clearing from which he had run away a dozen or so minutes earlier. Just as he predicted, and hoped, Ron's body disappeared as well, proving once and for all that all he saw was just his fear. But it didn't make it any easier, though. Boggart or not, he just proved to himself that he was capable of killing a defenseless human. And if he wasn't one hundred percent certain that it wasn't Daphne, he doubted he would be able to do it. He wouldn't be able to murder his friend, no matter how low she would have fallen.
"Point me," he said, staring at his wand. After a few seconds, the tip pointed to his left, and so, he entered the path right in front of him, hoping that it would lead him to the center of the Maze and the end of the Tournament.
Strangely, or luckily, he didn't encounter any other creature as he moved forward. The company of his Patronus also helped to calm his nerves. But still, the eerie silence of the Maze, combined with the darkness of the night and the Mist, made the hair on his arms stand. He tightened the grip on his wand, feeling a small stinging in his palm as the wood rubbed against his calloused skin.
He didn't have to wait long for the silence to disappear, though. "Who are you, little one, and why have you entered the lair of mine?" A deep voice reached him before he could even see its source. Slowly, the mist thinned a little, allowing Harry to catch a glimpse of something far larger than anything he had seen in the Maze so far.
The beast in front of him lay lazily on the ground in yet another clearing, blocking the only possible route with its body. It had a head of a woman and a body of a lion; its tail was moving from time to time as if the creature attempted to chase away some nagging flies. Sphinx, Harry realized, remembering one of Hagrid's lessons. He gulped nervously.
"My name is Harry Potter," he answered; his voice was shaking. "And I want to get to the Triwizard Cup."
"I guard that which you seek," the Sphinx nodded its head. "But my treasure is not for the weak. To test your strength is not my task – for your wisdom and cunning will I ask. Answer my question, and you may pass. Fail to do so, and you will not last," the creature spoke.
Harry heard a movement behind his back. He turned around immediately, fearing an incoming attack, but all he saw was a thick wall of hedges where once was the path from which he came. The silver stag was nowhere to be found – he was alone with the Sphinx.
"Ask your question," Harry replied, taking a shaky breath. Sphinxes' riddles were their most known trait. Hagrid even ordered them during the year to find as many riddles as possible, claiming that it could save them had they encountered one in their lives. Who could have guessed that the Gamekeeper would prove correct in his assumption?
"I am that, which can make you shake and shiver,
I can make you feel small and make your stomach quiver.
I can be irrational, but I serve a purpose too,
Without me, you may not know what to do.
I am that, which comes when you're all alone,
And you hear a noise that makes your heart tone.
I can make you freeze in place or run for your life,
I am a powerful force, a constant strife.
But despite my power, I am a natural part of life,
We all experience me, be it with joy or strife.
So, what am I, this thing we all know?
Answer me, human, and you may go."
The Sphinx said; its voice resonated through the Maze, causing the hedges to shake slightly. Harry stared at the creature blocking his path, doing his best to decipher the riddle. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't connect it to any other riddle he had found in the books when doing his homework.
And yet, he somehow knew the answer. It lingered at the edge of his mind, just outside his reach, as he started pacing back and forth in front of the Sphinx. He dried the palms of his hands against his trousers.
Without me, you may not know what to do, he repeated in his mind. The thing we all know… Anger? No, anger wouldn't make me freeze in place or run for my life, Harry thought, closing his eyes in an attempt to increase his concentration.
Suddenly, he stopped his pacing. He was frozen in place earlier that evening, and he did run for his life. His stomach quivered a little as he recalled his confrontation with Daphne, Voldemort, and the Dementor.
"Fear," he whispered, not daring to look at the Sphinx. He wasn't even sure if the creature heard him, but he was unable to repeat his answer louder.
"Your answer is correct, and you may pass. Continue as you have, and your competition you will outlast," the Sphinx said, standing up lazily from the ground. It moved aside only a little, allowing Harry to slip past the giant creature. The young wizard wasted no time in leaving the clearing, unsure if he lingered too long would he be forced to answer yet another riddle. Somehow he doubted if he could answer another one correctly.
"Lumos," Harry said, illuminating the dark path in front of him. The Sphinx's words reassured him – the Cup was somewhere behind the creature. At least he was going in the right direction. And if the Task was still going on, it meant that neither of the other three Champions reached the prize yet.
At another crossroad, Harry saw a light in the Maze for the first time since he entered it. Deactivating the spell, he stared motionlessly at the far end of the path to his right. There, not clouded by the mist, stood the Cup on a stone pedestal. It shone just as brightly as when it was revealed to all three schools. He laughed weakly. The end of all this madness was right there, at his fingertips. He looked around. None of the other Champions were anywhere near him.
Without wasting yet another precious second, Harry started running, heading straight for the Cup. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a dark shape running above his head, seemingly in the same direction. He forced his legs to move faster as he quickly recognized the eight long legs that belonged to an Acromantula. The giant spider was also running towards the Cup, but, at the same time, it was charging at Harry; the creature's eight powerful legs allowed it to swiftly catch up with the youngest Champion.
"Diffindo!" Harry yelled when he was sure that the beast was close enough for his spell to hit the target. Just as Boggart Daphne previously, the beast screamed in agony as one of its legs was cut off from its body, landing on the ground with a soft thud. The hairy limb almost crushed Harry, falling just a few centimeters behind him; the young boy even felt the rash of wind on his back.
"Depulso!" he said, once again pointing his wand at the creature, which appeared only more enraged than scared after losing one of its legs. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the Acromantula flying away, landing somewhere on the other side of the hedge.
The Cup was no more than ten meters ahead of him, forcing Harry to run even faster. Just as he was about to enter the clearing, a flash of red light flew right in front of his nose, causing him to stop immediately. He looked to his right, wanting to see who fired the spell at him.
There, in front of the Cup, stood Cedric and Viktor, dueling each other. The Hogwarts' Champion seemed to be on the defensive, mostly raising his shield and sending a curse or two once in a while. The Bulgarian Seeker, however, looked like someone possessed, firing at Cedric with a speed that made Harry's head spin.
"Crucio!" Harry heard the foreign boy's exclaim, staring wide-eyed at both Champions. Cedric fell to the ground, screaming, as Krum continued holding his spell. If Harry considered leaving the two to their antics and simply grabbing the Cup for himself, he reconsider upon seeing his schoolmate suffering under the Unforgivable Curse.
"Stupefy!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Bulgarian's back. However, his voice alerted the Durmstrang's Champion, causing him to turn around instantly and block the attack seemingly without effort. Harry's eyes widened as he realized that, at that moment, he became the older boy's target.
Remembering what happened earlier, Harry tried casting 'Riddikulus' yet again, but there was no effect. The two people in front of him really were Cedric and Viktor, and not Boggart.
"Protego!" he shielded himself from Viktor's spell that started rushing at him. Once again, he tried catching his opponent off-guard, but the Bulgarian easily avoided his Disarming Charm.
Strangely, Harry quickly noticed that Viktor didn't seem so keen on attacking him as he did Cedric. His spells were less harmful, as the older boy opted mainly for 'Stupefy' and 'Expelliarmus' instead of yet another Unforgivable Curse, but that didn't mean that Harry could simply ignore his opponent. The Seeker's attacks were swift and precise, just as he was on the broom.
With a corner of his eye, Harry noticed that Cedric started getting up slowly, shaking his head as he tried to shake off the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse. Their eyes met for a split second, and a silent agreement was made. Making as little sound as possible, Cedric crawled up to his wand, picked it up, and pointed it at Viktor. With a small nod, he let Harry know that he was ready.
"Stupefy!" Harry yelled at the same time as Cedric. Viktor effortlessly raised his shield to block Harry's attack, but he didn't anticipate the Hufflepuff's attack as well. The red light hit his back, causing him to fall to the ground with a soft thud.
"We should get rid of him!" Cedric seethed through gritted teeth, pointing his wand at the fallen boy's back.
"There's no need," Harry countered, panting heavily. "He's defeated."
"You saw what he did," Cedric replied, still glaring daggers at the Bulgarian. "He used an Unforgivable on me. He would have killed me if you hadn't shown up!"
"You don't know that," Harry said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Grab the Cup and end this."
Cedric took in a few deep breaths as if he was considering Harry's option. His wand was still pointed at Viktor, and Harry was more than sure that he wouldn't be able to stop the Hufflepuff from attacking their opponent. He sighed in relief when he saw the other Champion's hand trembling slightly before it hung limply on his side.
"You should take the Cup," Cedric whispered, still looking at Viktor as if he expected him to stand up at any moment and start attacking them again. "I would be dead if not for you. And I'm not talking only about now, but about earlier as well. You saved my life twice already in this Tournament, Potter."
Before Harry could answer, he heard a noise coming from one of the paths leading to the clearing. He turned around, raising his wand immediately. From the darkness and the mist, a large group of Acromantulas was charging at them, gaining ground more quickly than either of them could process.
"Together then!" Harry ordered, rushing to the Cup. He froze the ground in the path, hoping to slow down the spiders' advances, but the creatures' eight powerful legs allowed them to easily maneuver their way on the ice. "We're both Hogwarts Champions, so let's do it together!"
A little unwillingly, Cedric nodded his head, sending a Banishing Charm on the closest spider before he joined Harry next to the stone pedestal. "On three! One!"
"Periculum!" Harry said, sending red sparks from his wand. It didn't matter if Viktor attacked them, he didn't deserve to get devoured by the nest of angry and undoubtedly hungry Acromantulas. "Two!"
"Three!" the two boys yelled in unison, grabbing the Cup at the exact same moment.
The first thing Harry felt was the cold of the Cup's handle before something pulled at his navel. Faster than he could blink, the young boy felt as if someone attempted to squeeze him through an extremely narrow tube. Then, the Maze around them began spinning violently, and after a second or so, all Harry could see was blackness.
Before someone says something in the reviews, I'll explain the Boggart scene. I really hoped I wouldn't have to do it, but given some of the previous comments about some of my choices, unfortunately, I have to do this.
Harry isn't afraid of Ron dying. That wasn't his fear. Ron was in this scene simply because he was the one who told Harry not to trust the Slytherins, and that's what Harry is afraid of – that Ron could be right. That trusting Daphne was the wrong decision. I used Ron in that scene not because Harry still considers him to be a close friend, but for that single moment of judgment. Besides, seeing someone you basically live with dying could be hard for anyone.
With that out of the way, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. We are extremely close to hitting 400 reviews, and I just can't wait for that to happen. See you in the next update!